


Fear Of What Will Come

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Young Guns (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Chavez and Doc both know that Billy is going to lead to trouble.
Relationships: Jose Chavez y Chavez/Josiah "Doc" Scurlock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Fear Of What Will Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elamae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elamae/gifts).



" _He's not right, Chavez."_

A whisper. A fear. An unwillingness of what is to come. 

"What do you mean?" 

There's a pause, and Chavez thinks He imagined it, that little whisper, and then Doc turns His gaze back to Chavez's and repeats, "He's not right." 

Oh, how Chavez wants to play dumb, pretend he doesn't know who 'He' is, that Doc was just a little paranoid, but that'd be lying, wouldn't it? And Chavez didn't lie. 

Truth be told, Chavez knew that Billy wasn't right, had known from that very first day, when He was new and green in the face because it'd been His turn to shovel The Pig Pen and Chavez had _known,_ had felt it deep in His Gut at that very moment, that Henry Mccarty, that Billy, wasn't right in the head. And that was fine, because Charlie really wasn't right in the head either, and he'd worked in plenty fine, but not in that way was Billy wrong, oh no. Billy was wrong in the way that even Chavez, who had seen much more in His Life than what might seem right, loathed to think about. 

Billy had a look in His eyes, and a curl to His mouth, and a way to His speech, that all said what Chavez knew and what Doc knew and what the others probably knew- that Billy, for all His young naivety, would bring trouble, and would not feel an ounce of remorse for what would come. 

"I remember reading something, once.." Doc continued, still as a statue, seeming to be trying to read Chavez's reaction. "It was about the matters of Peoples Heads, how sometimes, things didn't work out right, how certain pieces of the puzzle, you could say, didn't connect quite like it did in others." There was something unspoken in Doc's words, something _more,_ and Chavez looked at Him, thought about how that might be the most Doc has ever said-to him, maybe to anyone- and looked deep within those blue eyes, and considered it. 

Telling Doc that, yes, He was right, would settle that mind of his, but it would also aggravate the problem and possibly create a rift between Billy and Doc, who had seemed to be trying to distance for the past few days. Chavez didn't want Billy to become suspicious, but also didn't want to make Doc feel like this, everything, was in His Head. It shouldn't have felt that way, but Doc was a sensitive soul. 

Chavez opened His mouth, stopped, closed it, thought more. "Chop Wood before Tunstall gets suspicious." He settled for, in the moment, and Doc dutifully bends down and picks up a lot of Wood, seeming to have sensed something in Chavez's voice that told Him not to fight it. Or maybe He knew that Tunstall was, more than likely, nearby and that Doc would probably get saddled with more Chores if caught slacking. 

Which brought another issue to Chavez's Head. 

Billy was favored. No doubt. Tunstall was an honest man, a good man, but for some reason that Chavez didn't know, Billy had been favored and treated special by Tunstall ever since He'd stepped foot there. Less chores, More food, Tunstall even talked to him nicer! Not that Tunstall was ever rude or cruel to them, in fact, he had never once raised his voice or said a word that could be considered anything but a paternal figure trying his best for a bunch of wild, mostly ex criminal boys with chips on their shoulders. 

But Tunstall, who had never showed an ounce of favoritism before, now even set aside time to talk to Billy when He's rarely done so with the others. What was so special about Billy? 

Chavez frowned, resisted the urge to sigh, and shook His head, trying not to think about how _jealous_ He sounded. Tunstall wasn't His Father, so what did He care? How did it affect Him any, besides having to do chores that Billy should've been doing, if Tunstall was more lenient toward Him? 

"What makes you think Billy isn't right?" Chavez broke the silence that had overtaken Them, gazing intently at Doc, who had been cutting wood and keeping an eye out for Tunstall, presumably, judging by His roving eyes. 

Doc winced. "You'll think I'm ridiculous." He replied. He picked up another log, grabbed The Axe, raised it...

"I won't. You are ridiculous, but I won't discount what you're saying." Chavez said, and just as predicated, Doc's mouth quirked up at The sides in a faint, barely there smile that nonetheless seemed to lessen the tension in The air. 

Doc looked away, avoiding Chavez's gaze as if it would lessen His nerve to speak. But still, even with His Blue eyes attached firmly to His task, there was a hesitancy to His Voice, halting and awkward and low, per usual. "I had a dream, have been for a while now, about Billy..leading us to our dooms." Doc wiped His Forehead with The hem of His Shirt. "We are always on Horses, and They're _our_ Horses, I could recognize them anywhere, and we're riding, riding, then The ground opens up from underneath us, and it's Hell, Chavez, it's Hell, and we all fall in, You and Me and Dick and Charlie and Steve and _everybody_ , except Tunstall isn't there, Billy, because He's Dead, you just know, and Billy's leading us, and he's yelling about 'Vengeance' and He isn't trying to get us out, he's leading us deeper and deeper into _Hell."_ By The time Doc finishes, His eyes are bright and His breath had quickened into short gasps of air, "Hell, Chavez, that's where I'm going." 

Chavez knew that Doc, most of all, thought He was a Bad Person. Knew that Doc loathed himself and feared Hell with the fear of a Christian Man who didn't want to die, not with the strength of His Faults weighing on His Shoulders. Not with some sort of forgiveness for His Sins. 

"No, You won't." Chavez didn't believe in that sort of thing, not in the way that Doc did, but He allowed Himself to broaden His mind in that moment, to think beyond His own beliefs and tell Doc, with as much genuine sincerity as one could muster, that He was not going to Hell. "Hell, I'm sure, has much more deserving People that have yet to go in." Chavez rested his hand on Doc's shoulder, wanting to do more but not trusting that They weren't being watched.

Doc looked doubtful, but He nodded and wiped discreetly at His Eyes, turning away and taking a calming breath.

Life was cruel. Life was hard and fast and unforgiving, a whirlwind of death and destruction and darkness. Chavez has long accepted this as a fact, like a Religious Man would a Prayer, but found that sometimes, The People caught up in the whirlwind were undeserving of such a fate. Doc shouldn't be here, cutting wood, fearing Hell on a Ranch in some old, ugly town. Doc should be somewhere far, far away, living up to His Nickname. 

But there was so changing anything, now, and so Chavez settled himself with being thankful that Doc was _here,_ instead of dead, instead of long and buried, instead of with some Gang who could go and rot, just like Doc feared. 

"Hey, Chavez, could you come help me?" Charlie said, from afar. Chavez turned and could could see Him, a distant shape near The Bunkhouse, and wrestled with going over to do as asked or pretending that He hadn't heard anything. But, eventually, The possibility that Charlie might be in some sort of trouble became too great to ignore, and so, He turned to Doc and said, "I'll see you later." And there was no real response, not by a long shot, not unless you counted the slim, pale fingers brushing against Chavez's hand, an answer to a question that Chavez didn't need to ask. 

\--- 

Late that night, as They trekked back to the bunkhouse, twisting and turning every which way to ensure that They hadn't been seen, Chavez grasped for Doc's Hand, which was shivering in the chilled air. "You're not a bad person." Chavez said, and Doc said something, a vague mumble in the howling wind, that sounded like "Thank You." 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope You Liked It.


End file.
